Consumed
by volleyballwb9
Summary: “Harry. Why are you using such weak spells? I would have thought that our time together taught you something. Throw a killing curse or two. You have a better chance of hitting me with that. Well I thought you might at least want to make this interesting."
1. Tortured Soul

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter Characters. I only own the plot of this story.

Please read and give me your thoughts. //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"I knew that I had come face to face with someone whose mere personalility was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my soul, my very art itself."

Anonymous

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His demented laugh struck the air with thunderous echoes. The cold room was lit by the moonlight shining through the windows. It was an old classroom that hadn't been used in years. Dusty and empty the arched ceilings hid in shadows high above their heads. One full wall was covered with tall windows, lighting the expanse.

His pale skin glowed with unnatural transparency while his red eyes burned with satisfaction. His gaze turned to the dark corner where his prey shrank back protectively. Harry Potter slid as close to the wall as possible. Dragging his limp leg through a pool of his own blood, Harry's shoe slipped on the slick tiles.

Wand in hand Harry muttered a quick Episkey charm and silently thanked Hermione for making him practice the healing spells. He hoped he could voice his thanks; she had helped him so much over the years. If he didn't die tonight he would finally show her how much he valued her friendship. They had become so distant in the past year.

A crash hit the oak door but Voldemort's wards held strong against the assault. Harry knew they would but he couldn't help but hope. "Looks like your Death Eaters failed… Again," Harry taunted. He wasn't in a position to dish out the usual healthy banter but he couldn't help himself.

The healing charm didn't help more then to prevent anymore blood loss but it was useful in keeping Harry on his feet. He levered himself up in the corner of the room. His left leg wouldn't support much of his weight but he was in a better position to defend himself standing up.

"What will they do when I toss your broken corpse at their feet and laugh at the shock on their faces?" Many horrified faces crossed Harry's mind. Their savior dead along with their hope. It won't happen, Harry thought.

"_Expelliarmus_," Harry roared. The spell glanced off Voldemort's counter curse with a snap. Again laughs filled the room as Harry panted. Sweat ran down his face tinged with the blood from his scar.

"Dear boy, you have helped me realize something about myself," Voldemort congratulated.

"Oh good for me, what the bloody hell would that be," Harry snarled, sliding toward the windows.

"It seems that I like to torture people," he giggled as if he were just realizing his affliction.

"I helped you realize that, well give me a pat on the back," Harry spat.

"Well before it blinded my better judgment. I left escapes open for the taking. I tortured your mudblood mother with the knowledge that I would kill her precious little boy." Harry roared with anger. "That allowed her to protect you with her _love_. Then…" Voldemort continued his rant. "Then I tried to have a little fun in the graveyard. Your dear parents and a few other choice victims made their appearance to show you the way out." He paced around the room with a hideous smile. "Then there was that debacle at the Ministry. You were within my grasp but Dumbledore had to interrupt."

"Well maybe you should change your evil ways," Harry retorted. Again he slid closer to the windows but further into the dark.

"Harry, Harry. This is no time for comedy. Neither of us were meant to be funny people," he chided. The tone was mocking; as if Harry were his son making a fool of his father.

"Then why do you play with your victims. They are only going to slip away." Harry slid across the wall leaving only a bloody hand print to mark his passage.

"Enjoyment, Harry. You should learn to feel the power of a life in your hands. When they are fully at your mercy…ah… The sensation is amazing. What will they do to live?" Voldemort cackled, his eyes glinting with insanity. "You should have seen your mother and father pleading on the floor as I stood over them. The painful look on their faces as I silenced them."

Harry's face contained pure rage and the green of his eyes glowed with fierce light. He violently slashed his wand through the air as purple flames erupted from the tip. Voldemort looked tickled.

"Harry. Why are you using such weak spells? I would have thought that our time together taught you something. Throw a killing curse or two. You have a better chance of hitting me with that. Well I thought you might at least want to make this interesting… I sure do. The final moments of Harry Potter's life… Someone should write a book. Wait no one will know of your final moments if I don't reveal it appropriately. And no one wants you to become the glorified hero who died trying to save the world. No, no. I think we need an audience."

Harry gapped at his stupidity. The Order stood on the other side of the door. Voldemort would be overpowered by the number. His insanity would be his death. Harry wasn't about to mention this. I could use all the help I can get, he thought.

A disillusionment charm was expelled from Voldemort's wand. It hit the wall behind Harry with a smacking sound. Could objects be disillusioned, Harry thought. The cold stone became suddenly icy. He stumbled forward as the corridor came into view. Light jumped through the barrier to illuminate the darkness. People banged against the door but now seemed alarmed at the disappearance of the wall.

Harry turned slowly, placing all his weight on his right leg. Ron's hands pressed up against the former stone. It was as if he had placed them on impenetrable glass. Yelling pierced the hallway but the room was vacant of noise. The impenetrable charm used on the door blocked all noise and allowed no one to interfere. "That's better. We can't hear them and they can't hear us but they can enjoy the show. It will be like a silent play." Voldemort laughed maniacally.

"Ron," Harry whispered. His eyes darted from his friend to Hermione, then to Ginny, Fred, George, Lupin, Tonks, McGonagall, and many others who had come to his aid. Horror lit their faces as Harry pressed his hand against the wall.

"Can't hear you," Voldemort sang. "_Crucio_." Withering pain clutched Harry's every muscle. His right leg collapsed underneath him as he hit the floor. Convulsing violently, Harry held tight to his wand. It was his only hope now. Pounding fists hit the wall as the crowd grew outraged. Finally the pain stopped as Voldemort lifted the curse. Harry breathed lightly as his muscles randomly twitched. It appeared that he would have lied there to die if he could. Catching his breath, Harry tried to stand. He used the wall to support himself as his left leg almost gave out again.

Harry spat blood on the floor. He had bit his tongue and his mouth tasted metallic with the wound. "_Duro_," Harry fired. Voldemort stepped aside with ease. "_Expulso, confringo, sectumsempra._" He stepped forward with every curse. Spells and curses rolled off his tongue with beaten in effortlessness. His whole life came to this moment. Everything he had worked for, trained for, fought for culminated in this battle.

Voldemort danced around the curses like a fast paced waltz was playing. He laughed at the weak spells as Harry struggled to hit the moving target. The hallway grew more restless with each miss and Harry felt like the night's entertainment. His attention didn't stray far from Voldemort but Hermione's tears and Ron's outrage ate at his mind. Mrs. Weasley hid in McGonagall's robes. Harry couldn't remember seeing McGonagall so compassionate.

A dark hissing sound came from Voldemort's mouth and black flames licked the tip of his wand. At the final word a silver dagger shot toward Harry. He had just enough time to step aside. It would have buried itself in his heart without the movement, but Harry's mistake was moving to his left. His wounded leg wobbled dangerously before he brought his right leg to the floor. The dagger hit the wall and passed through the invisible stone. It struck Lupin in the shoulder. The crowd became a flurry of movement as everyone became wary of Voldemort's attacks.

Another hiss and five golden arrows rocketed toward Harry. They swerved left before Harry thought to move. He spun and saw the trajectory of the arrows. Ron stood in their path but he didn't attempt to move. Ginny cowered behind him. Of course Ron would try to be the hero and protect his family. "NO," Harry cried. He threw out his arm in a desperate attempt to save his best friend. The arrows sliced into his forearm and lodged themselves between the two bones. An anguished whimper escaped Harry's lips as he clutched his dripping wounds.

Ron beat his fists against the wall to no avail. He shouted curses at Harry's actions, but only the crowd heard anything.

Harry couldn't break off the shafts and remove the arrows but quickly muttered an Episkey over the wounds. "Well, well, well. Just had to be the hero, didn't you? Harry. What will I do with you? I know that saving your little friend meant so much to you but I just hate that look on your face. _Crucio_," Voldemort whispered. Harry crumpled to the floor as the fire poured over his limbs. The arrows twitched as his arm muscles contracted. Blood seeped from the disturbed wounds. "You will not be painted as the hero who gave his life for his friends. You will beg for mercy from me. You will do anything to save yourself. And everyone will see the coward you really are."

Harry clenched his teeth against the agonies ruling his body. He held on for as long as he could. Everything came in the lens of his tears. Ron's beat red face screaming at the top of his lungs, Hermione crying with her hands on the wall, shock covering everyone's face. Finally darkness came and Harry couldn't feel his body anymore. He prayed that death had taken him but the black was too pure. He only felt numb to the world.

"_Rennervate_," came a distant voice. Blood gurgled in Harry's throat. Gasping for air, the moonlit room returned to view. "You can't leave yet. Dear boy, this is the first time I have you all to my self. I haven't had enough fun yet," Voldemort was across the room still.

Harry's head rolled toward the invisible wall. Hermione watched through her hands while Ron held her in his arms. Harry rolled to his right away from the wall. His left arm numbly hit the floor, jarring the arrows. He cringed before pushing himself up. After great difficulty, Harry stood and faced Voldemort. For the second time he spat blood on the floor.

"That's better. At least you have a little fight in you. Your father fell to his knees before me," chuckled the pale creature. His tall shadow shook in the light with his silent laughter.

"_Confringo, expulso, incendio,_" Harry cried and took a step forward. His wand swirled with fire as he cast wordless magic along side the incantations. The flames engulfed Voldemort. He wasn't expecting the Hell fire that exploded from his foe's wand. The counter curse was slow to come but eventually the flames were extinguished.

"Ha, so there is fire in you," Voldemort laughed. Harry stared at his enemy with a venomous glare. Flawless skin smoldered as Voldemort put out the sparking fire that attempted to consume his black robes. "Now let's start this show."

"What do you call the past half hour, foreplay," Harry gasped. The spells sapped at his energy.

"Huh. I was just waiting for you to catch up. We can finally duel. I haven't had a real challenge in a while," he laughed.

"Gee, thanks for thinking so much of me Tom," Harry remarked.

"You aren't half the challenge I was looking for but what more can you expect from a seventeen year old. You may be some sort of savior but you are no prodigy," Voldemort replied.

Harry raised his wand again to defend against the curse he knew was coming. Voldemort flicked his wrist to draw a rune in the air. Harry's breath became visible as ice coated the windows and the air turned frigid. Ice raced across the floor and locked Harry's feet in place. The cold water solidified around his calves and knees.

"_Extraho phasmatis, oppugno, incedia,_" Harry cried. A blood red mist clawed its way out of Harry's wand to form a ghostly apparition of the fierce creature. Flames dripped from the dragon's maw as he swirled almost bodiless toward the Dark Lord. The heat ate at the ice and Harry used the distraction to chisel away what he could.

A quick cry erupted across the room. "_Extraho phasmatis, vallo, glacies." _A blue dragon erupted from Voldemort's wand and completely consumed the red apparition before disappearing into the moonlight. "Interesting Harry. Keep me on my toes."

The ice still held Harry's right leg as Voldemort chuckled. Another hiss echoed across the room. The ice broke as an invisible hand lifted Harry in the air. Oxygen seeped into his lungs in small amounts through his constricted throat. The clatter of wood on stone echoed in the vast space. Harry's wand hit the floor below him. Blood swirled in the melting ice around the dark wood.

The hand pulled Harry into the center of the room as Voldemort began to circle. His appraising gaze was no longer humorous. "Dumbledore was a fool to believe that a boy could defeat such a great wizard. You are barely of age. I truly am sorry Harry. If things had been different… You could have followed me and no one close to you would have to die." The Dark Lord stopped before Harry. Staring up into the boy's strained face Voldemort asked, "Will you join me Harry? Will you kneel before me and devout yourself to my service?"

The hand loosened it's hold so that Harry might speak. "Never!" His green eyes burned beneath the stained lenses of his glasses. It was such a Slytherin color but the passion behind them was pure Gryffindor.

"You defy me, boy?" The hand dropped Harry to his knees. Red piercing eyes glared at the unsophisticated child that knelt before him.

"Go fuck your self," Harry whispered. Voldemort flung his arm toward the crowd and Harry was lifted again. The room soared by but Voldemort stayed in focus.

A deafening crack sounded as Harry's head struck the wall. Warm sticky blood seeped into the collar of his warn shirt but little pain accosted him. A sharp ringing sound burned his ears while stars adorned his vision. The pressure was gone from his neck and the air fluttered in his black hair. The ground grew rapidly under him as he fell. Again no pain came when his right ankle twisted against the dusty floor.

The audience peered at the slumped body. Begging, hoping, praying that Harry would stand or at least move. They feared the worst had finally come true

Voldemort was speaking but the ringing drowned everything out. His face laughed but Harry didn't have to listen to the evil cackle. Death was moments away he could feel it. All he had to do was close his eyes and let go.

"Wake up Harry. Wake up." Harry fought to keep his eyes closed. No more fighting, no more living, no more suffering; all of it could end here if he didn't wake up. Cold hands grasped his hair. Eyes closed, Harry thought. A smooth strike across the face. Just die, Harry begged. "_Rennervate._" His body fought to wake from the forced silence. Let go, Harry cried. "I know you're in there, Harry. Come out and play." No, Harry pleaded.

A belated moan marked Harry's surrender. He reentered the world of pain and suffering. The smiling face before him laughed. "Welcome back. You had your chance to end the pain but I won't let you go with out a little more… Fun." Voldemort smirked. "Come on. _Imperio._"

A light, happy sensation filled Harry as the spell took affect. He fought its control with all his strength but he was only able to break it for short moments. "Come here, boy. Knee before me so that you can die like your traitor father and mudblood mother."

Harry felt himself wanting to move, wanting to obey. I won't, Harry thought but his body began a shaky crawl across the floor. Every movement came with hesitation. He dragged himself through the dusty blood.

The euphoric feeling was nearly as bad as painful reality. Harry forced himself to stop amidst the moon lit dust. He threw off the curse with an anguished cry. "I will not be your puppet," Harry spat.

Soft steps approached but without his wand Harry could do nothing. Icy fingers grabbed Harry's shirt and tossed him back toward the audience. Harry landed on his back with a grunt. Something sharp poked his side as Voldemort turned to the windows. "I didn't expect anything less from you. Too bad your friends must watch you die," he taunted. "Be comforted that you will see them soon."

Harry's blood soaked sleeve concealed the long wand he now clutched with a death grip. Voldemort walked over and picked up the armed boy. He stood him on his feet and gripped his bruised throat. "Stand tall Harry. I would like to kill you while you are still on your feet. It will make a more glorious tale if you fall before me. I can't kill a defenseless child lying on the floor."

Harry swayed even in Voldemort's grip. "Who said I was defenseless?" The wand slid into his palm with ease. The wood was solid, like an extension of his arm. He brought his hand under Voldemort's arm and pressed the tip under his enemy's chin.

"That's why everyone had hope for you Harry," Voldemort whispered like he still had a chance to win. "But I don't think you are capable of killing me."

"Go to Hell," Harry replied with a smile on his face. "_Avada Kedavra_!" Green light shot through Voldemort's head. His red eyes glowed with the curse and shock remained on his lifeless face. The Dark Lord was dead.

The Order watched the light pierce the ceiling while a smile lit Harry's face. The wall reappeared but noise was still absent. McGonagall was the first to react. " Remus, Tonks please run to the hospital wing and bring back bandages and potions. You know which ones. Poppy. Come with me please. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger." They all moved toward the door. Ron helped Hermione to her feet and held her as they entered the old classroom.

Harry still stood over Voldemort's body. He didn't know how to move, he didn't want to move. He had taken a life, even if it was for the better he couldn't help but see the blood on his hands. Nothing else mattered. "Harry," came a soft whispering voice.

Hermione, Harry's mind told him. He turned toward the door to see the four people who had ventured in. Ron, Harry thought as the golden arrows twitched in place. He moved to make a step.

Ron sprinted forward and caught Harry as his leg gave out. "Ron," Harry murmured through the blood in his throat.

". Lay him down. Miss Granger, take his head," Madam Pomfrey commanded taking control. Ron lowered Harry to his knees as Hermione took his lolling head. The stone was comforting beneath his back. Sleep invited him finally into its warm embrace. He closed his eyes. Ron wrestled the wand from Harry's hand with ease.

"_Rennervate_," McGonagall said. "Hermione. You must keep Mr. Potter awake. I know you know the spell. Do not let him sleep or we may lose him forever," she cautioned. Harry watched her nod and draw her wand from her robes. The pain returned and his body ached with exhaustion.

"Hermione," Ron gasped. Blood stuck to her hand as she gripped her wand.

"Oh dear," cried the nurse as she cast spell after spell over the fallen hero.

Harry's head rolled to one side and his eyes closed again. "_Rennervate_," Hermione whispered past rolling tears. Harry's eyes flew open and he caught Hermione's eyes with his. His right hand grabbed her wrist. She looked sorrowfully down at him.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for making me learn all those spells. You saved my life," he smiled at her. She smiled back and wiped a line of sticky dust from his face.

Harry couldn't feel his legs anymore and he assumed that was due to Madam Pomfrey's spells. He didn't care why he just knew that the pain was gone. The nurse's face appeared over his. "Alright dear, hold still." Not much for me to do anyway, Harry thought.

A tingling sensation spread over his left arm. Metal and stone clattered five times as Professor McGonagall cut the golden arrows. Ron's hands rested on Harry's chest with gentle pressure. The teacher's long fingered hands gripped Harry's arm at the wrist and elbow.

The arrow's turned white hot as the nurse pulled the first from Harry's arm. Hermione held Harry's head still as he withered away from the pain. Ron pinned his friend to the floor as the golden shafts burned his flesh. The tingling vanished as smoke rose from the wounds. "One down and four more to remove," Pomfrey sighed.

Lupin and Tonks ran in with their heavy burdens. Mrs. Weasley and the twins held back anyone who attempted to enter. Most leaned against the wall with mixed emotions. Lupin slowed at the burning smell.

Harry clawed at Ron's arm to no avail. A quiet scream broke through Harry's silence and Tonks set down her burden and ran out. "Remus dear. Thank you. Begin bandaging his right ankle and his left leg please. There is a deep gash straight down the side." Remus looked sorrowfully at the boy before him.

The nurse yanked out the second and the third shaft with quick movements. She stopped to cast healing charms over the wounds. Harry had suffered enough blood loss for one night. Tears ran into Hermione's hands. Ron pinned Harry's right hand in his own. At first the grip was strong with pain but by the time both of the final shafts had been removed Harry's grip was faint.

Professor McGonagall began bandaging his arm with a few spells interspersed. The cloth was turning bloody before the next layer settled. The Healer's bright eyes examined Harry's dull green ones. A gray potion appeared in her hands. She tilted Harry's head up and pressed it to his lips. It tasted worst than polyjuice potion but it removed most of the metallic flavor from his mouth. Ice gripped Harry's body and suddenly the boy was tensed for battle. He fought Ron's grip to find his wand but Hermione soon calmed him down.

The nurse picked up a bundle of gauze and lifted Harry's head. "Hold that dear." Hermione put pressure on the wound, one cool hand resting on Harry's forehead. Another bottle appeared at Harry's lips. The bright orange potion tasted like paint thinner and sent waves of heat through his body. The numbness evaporated and Harry thought he might breathe fire. Lupin was tying the final bandage and McGonagall was applying more spells to his arm. A hiss escaped his lips with a tendril smoke.

"There, there child," Madam Pomfery comforted. "Minerva we need to move him now. I can do no more from here."

"_Mobilicorpus._ Lupin take the bandages and potions with us. Miss Granger keep pressure on that wound," McGonagall directed.

The crowd gapped until Lupin yelled, "Take care of the body before it rots further. Move now!" A flurry of Order members rushed into the room to see Voldemort's body. The Weasleys followed Harry to the hospital wing.

For once the strict nurse didn't shuttle away Harry's visitors. They sat by his side as she worked. No one spoke. Five potions later and Harry was fighting sleep. His skin and muscles had been knit together. The scalded flesh on his forearm cleaned. No spell could repair the dark magic that burned him. Two potions made his body tingle with sensitivity. Another attacked him from the inside until Madam Pomfrey healed the internal injuries. The fourth caused him to lose all feeling below the neck. And the fifth was well known. It would put him to sleep in minutes. Harry didn't want to hide in the darkness anymore. The antiseptic smell burned his nose and the starch white sheets felt familiar. He silently wanted everyone to leave but Ron and Hermione. He couldn't look at any of them. Everything was blurring. "Don't fight the potions," Madam Pomfrey chided. The stern look on her face quickly disappeared.

Fear filled his mind as he remembered the nights events. What if he hadn't been fast enough to stop the arrows? What if he hadn't been quick enough to dodge the knife? What if Voldemort hadn't thrown him onto his wand? What if he hadn't been able to kill him? Everyone in this room looked at Harry with pride, what would they think of him if he had failed? As his breathing slowed another fear spilled into his mind. He liked the way Voldemort had feared him. He loved the shock in his foe's eyes as he cast the killing curse. He enjoyed the feel of those horrible words on his tongue. He didn't want to surrender to the darkness.

A hand touched his shoulder. "Your parents would be proud," Lupin declared. The darkness ate at the edges of the room. He felt consumed by the emptiness of black nothing. Don't fight the potions, Harry thought.

**********

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look long into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you."

- Friedrich Nietsche

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Definitions in Latin

Extraho-dragon

Phasmatis-ghost

Oppugno-attack

Incedia-Fire

Vallo-defend

Glacies-ice

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Again let me know what you think.


	2. Confessions

Disclaimer: I own none of the character or the places but I do own the plot.

Enjoy and let me know what you think.

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"Perhaps I am stronger then I think."

- Thomas Merton

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The impossible darkness of a dreamless sleep felt less lonely then it should. For some reason Harry never remembered what dreamless sleep felt like. It had always seemed like he had blinked away the minutes, hours, days that the potion claimed from him. Something was different now. His present state of mind left his conscious wondering, unbound by his will. Oddly, as soon as a subject came to his mind it was whisked away with disregard. It felt like someone rifling through his memories until they found the one they wanted.

Dreamless sleep gave way to vivid memories. High stone walls drank in the blackness of his mind and reflected its light. The brick spun until Harry stood before the mirror of Erised. The tranquil mirror reflected cold stone and nothing else. Harry shifted and still no image appeared. He waved his hand, futilely trying to see his reflection. A snap of cloth broke the stagnant silence. Drifting from the infinite ceiling a sliver of purple tainted the black. Swiftly descending, the cloth plunged to the floor creating a pool of fabric.

Harry knew this was the turban of the first man he killed. The pool of fabric melted like acid staining the simple gray stone. Harry's eyes flickered back to the mirror. Still nothing. His eyes closed, hoping only to see himself when he looked into the glass. I'm perfectly happy, Harry thought. Again the gray monotony rested before him, but the mirror now held a new burst of color. Quirrell stood behind him with his much-too-small head exposed and a hissing creature eating his soul.

Instinct gripped Harry but his wand had not entered the dream with him. Quirrell attacked like hunting dog when his master cracks the whip. Reflexes sent Harry to the floor out of Quirrell's reach. Pale hands moved to encircle his throat, but smoldered viciously upon contact. Harry remembered this part all too well; he grasped at his enemy's face until the skin boiled beneath his palms and the flesh melted under his touch. Muscles deteriorated to liquid, as the bone became crumbling ash, sliding through his fingers like fine sand.

The flames left Harry's hands immersed in ice as the chill clawed its way up his arms.

-

Madame Pomfrey soon lost her affectionate touch and dismissed everyone from the small curtained room. Lupin argued eagerly against another night in the hospital wing. The fierce little nurse recruited Mcgonagall to her side, and Lupin lost rather immediately.

"At least let me stay with Harry," the last Marauder demanded.

"No! I will not have it. You will be in your own bed."

"Poppy, I'm not one of your children. It's a shoulder injury, I will be fine in the chair," Lupin walked swiftly over to Harry and sat defiantly beside the bed.

-

Quirrell's ashes faded as they drifted from Harry's hands never reaching the ground. The grey stone dissolved in a deeper color that shadowed the room. As the walls stretched and contorted to another vision, Harry glanced one last time at the mirror. Nothing.

The cavernous room threw darkness over the corners and glowed brilliantly on the mirage before him. A laugh set the air aquiver like silence defeated by a bell toll. Harry flinched as the cold sensation grew to an ache in his arm. Blood turned to ice within his veins consuming his sensitivity to his surroundings. The bite dragged him painfully towards death while a young Riddle watched dutifully on.

The poison numbed Harry's mind with persistent waves of attack. A final instinctual message flitted through his thoughts. One last chance to do something, anything, before he died.

His fingers twitched against the basilisk tooth resting within his grasp. He fought the cold to grab the weapon and drove it into the black leather cover. The numbness remained without cure and his righteous hand fell away from the book to lie unresponsive against the grey.

Tom laughed again as light pierced his form. Filled with knowing the sound resonated long after the foe had been diminished to dust. Harry stared at the remains waiting for the vision to pass. Slowly his heartbeat, so clear and rhythmic in his ears, faded. He counted the seconds between each pulse but time was irrelevant. His eyes drifted gently shut with the last beat.

-

The midday sun had yet to fall to darkness. Light rained through the clouds like mist painting the sky with curtains of color. Lupin slept awkwardly in the chair again fighting Madame Pomfrey about a bed of his own. The silence of the wing lay unbroken by any laughs or screams that once gave life to the halls. Not even Harry's flinch disturbed the silence as his troubled sleep went unnoticed by anyone.

-

The knife blade severed the numbness with a shock of pain. Harry squeezed his eyes shut as the hot liquid trailed down his arm. Steady aches returned with vivid details as wind swept across Harry's face, tearing at the skin. His heart awoke with a dreadful start and refused to stop accelerating. The bonds quivered against the rise and fall of Harry's chest.

A bone finger traced Harry's cheek with a gentle touch. He refused to look but knew the graveyard imprisoned him. If he held his eyes shut long enough the vision would fade and he knew he would awake in the hospital wing safe and sound. The bones lifted his chin with harsh violence, his head smacking against the stone. Harry opened his eyes as color flooded the darkness. The boiling of a cauldron was replaced by the sound of decomposing flesh beneath the robe, a soft creak of bone grinding against bone. The wraith made to remove his hood and finally relieve Harry of his soul. But Harry couldn't watch.

-

A rustle of cloth echoed infinitely loud across the snow white room. The nurse's head lifted from her potion with sudden knowing. Hermione slapped an already alert Ron, while her friend sat up straight in his rather uncomfortable chair. Lupin slid around the curtain with childish ease much to the watching nurse's anger. Harry's head turned into the pillow with all the effects of a boy deeply entrenched in whatever his dreams held.

Madame Pomfrey ran from the bedside with urgency so far from her character the others looked back for some sign of her distress.

-

Eyes glued shut; Harry forced his cheek to the granite. The arm of his glasses pressed uncomfortably into his skin. The wind struck his face once more as the bone pried his face from the stone. I won't open them, Harry thought, no matter what. Flesh and bone gripped his chin forcing him to face the creature before him.

Harry heard the rustle of cloth and the wind swept his hair back. The hands passed through his skin with a swelling green light. He opened his eyes but the graveyard was only a green haze steadily intensifying. The binding spell vanished but Harry didn't move. Pressed against the gravestone by some driving force, the world tilted beneath him and the harsh stone turned smooth under him. A chill ran through him and settled in his bones.

The ministry ceiling echoed the silence projecting from Harry's mind. He rolled without thinking and looked at the fountain. Dumbledore stared at him with sorrowful eyes; just like when Voldemort…Harry thought.

"Kill me," he said. He looked down but the stone reflection had green eyes not red. He should have killed me, Harry thought.

"Harry, Harry," Dumbledore whispered, shaking his head. Warmth crept into his hand and he gripped it with hope. The vision melted before him.

-

"Harry, Harry," Hermione whispered. The sheets were tousled as Harry rolled in his sleep.

Hermione reached out and grabbed Harry's hand. A gasp escaped his lips and his eyes fluttered open. The blurry haze left him with the feeling he was still in a dream, but his glasses were soon nestled against his nose so that he might see his company.

His breath remained heavy and straining but Hermione's hand tethered him to reality. She smiled sweetly at him but Harry didn't return the gesture. Now that he looked again they all smiled at him, the hero. He tried to focus, his head pounded. He reached back to feel the wound on his head but it was completely healed, as was his leg and ankle. His body still ached with injuries that should be there. Finally he looked at his forearm hidden within a thick bandage. Figures, it can't be healed, Harry thought.

"Harry," Hermione whispered again.

He looked at her; she cared. "I'm fine." She smiled at him and he looked away. She knew better than to believe him anyway.

Footsteps clashed with the silencing wards on the hospital wing as Madame Pomfrey brought McGonagall at a startling pace. "Oh dear." She rushed over to tend to Harry with more potions and a wand at the ready. "Drink these and I will be back with the others."

"No," Harry said flatly. His bruised throat rasped lightly with the defiant word. She turned back to look at him, her mouth agape.

"You are my patient and you are not yet fully healed."

Harry sat up, the scars riddling his body whispered in the light. "I'm fine," he repeated.

"Far from it child," the nurse argued to no avail. "You are in no condition to be moving about, let alone going anywhere. Now lie down."

"I'm fine," he repeated with a shaky voice. Hermione held tight as he looked down.

"Humph, well-"

"Poppy, can't they wait a little while," Lupin asked. The nurse scowled and stalked off mumbling about rules and how things should be run.

Harry slumped back and sighed with relief. Sleep is the last thing I need, he thought. Lupin ushered out all the gaping visitors much to Harry's gratitude.

"Well done mate. You gave us a bit of a scare but I knew you'd pull through," Ron chuckled.

"Must have been a good show," Harry whispered.

"That's now what he meant, Harry. We were worried sick you weren't going to survive," Hermione squeezed his hand.

"Harry, we just want you back. You're the hero," Ron replied.

But at what cost, Harry thought. "How long?"

"Five and a half days. We thought you might never wake up. We were scared for you and Madame Pomphry gave you so many potions no wonder you were out. Oh Harry, I'm so sorry," she rambled with a tear sliding down her face.

"What? Hermione, what are you talking about?" Her sobs became muffled as Ron held her to his chest.

"She feels bad for…" Ron supplied before the sobs grew louder.

"For what? For keeping me alive," Harry asked. "Because without you I probably would have died after all that, maybe even during it."

She glanced at him with teary eyes. Then turned away in shame. "You were in such pain… and the blood… and I made you…"

"Hermione. You did what you had to," Ron whispered with a gentle kiss. Her head fell into his shoulder where it had rested for nearly six days.

"I don't blame you, Hermione. I couldn't feel much anyway," Harry lied. His forearm burned viciously in protest. Every searing arrow. His right hand twitched in response but he didn't move.

Ron's arm was riddled with bright pink scars tracing thin lines down his right arm. "It's nothing mate," Ron laughed apprehensively. "You don't get all the scars," he joked as he slid sleeve over the glaring lines. Silence filled the air. "Why did you do it?"

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "They didn't hurt half as much going in as coming out. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. Just a reflex," Harry looked away.

"That isn't what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"Why did you stop the arrows?" Hermione was just as confused as Harry.

"Why wouldn't he, Ron?"

"The knife… I thought they would…they would have killed you. I-" Harry averted his gaze. His arm ached the more he looked at it, as if the blood rushed to reopened wounds. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I let him kill another person close to me."

"What did he say after?" Ron's voice shook with emotion.

"Ron," Hermione shouted angrily.

"He said-" The aristocratic voice rang clearly within his head. _Well, well, well. Just had to be the hero, didn't you? Harry. What will I do with you? I know that saving your little friend meant so much to you but I just hate that look on your face. _Crucio_._ Harry twitched at the word. _You will not be painted as the hero who gave his life for his friends. You will beg for mercy from me. You will do anything to save yourself. And everyone will see the coward you really are._

"Harry," Ron touched his arm. Harry's head snapped up to stare at Ron. "Hey, look. I'm sorry I asked. You don't have to tell me."

"He said 'Just had to be the hero, didn't you? What will I do with you? I know that saving your little friend meant so much to you but I just hate that look on your face.' Then he used the Cruciatus curse on me."

Ron shivered.

"After a few minutes he let me go…and said 'You will not be painted as the hero who gave his life for his friends_. _You will beg for mercy from me. You will do anything to save yourself.'" _And everyone will see the coward you really are._

Hermione was petrified and Ron blinked away tears. "I'm sorry." Harry appeared to have drifted off, remembering the horrors of the battle.

"Now, that is quite enough. Harry drink that potion and the two of you leave," Madame Pomphry stormed around the curtain.

************

"Some people think it's holding on that makes you strong – sometimes it's letting go."

- Anonymous


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